


Where You Are

by luulapants



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29114769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luulapants/pseuds/luulapants
Summary: Prompt fill: "Steter prompt: trying to make it through the long distance part of a long distance relationship. Or finally getting through it. Whichever."Peter and Stiles struggle to coordinate their long-distance relationship.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 16
Kudos: 132





	Where You Are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mockspeed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockspeed/gifts).



“Agent Stilinski,” mumbled a sleep-rough voice.

Peter frowned and looked at his watch, because he was _sure_ he’d done the math on the time zones right this time. “Are you still asleep? It’s eight there, right?”

Stiles groaned, and the sound of shifting blankets rustled over the line. “M’in Alaska,” he yawned.

“Since when?” Peter crossed to the window of his hotel room, the glittering lights of Seoul blinking up at him from below.

“Flew me out last night – or tonight – or, fuck, what time is it?” Another shuffling over the line. “It’s four in the morning,” Stiles griped.

Peter rubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry, I thought I’d catch you just before you left for work.”

Another yawn. “Was a good thought.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you went to Alaska?”

“It’s just a few days. I’ll be back in DC before you get to LA.”

Peter thought about just apologizing again and letting Stiles get back to sleep, but  decided to press on. If it was four in the morning in Alaska, Stiles wouldn’t be awake until two in the morning Peter’s time.  “That’s what I was calling about,”  he said. “I managed to cut the trip short. I’m flying back  Thursday .”

“Thursday Korea time or California time?”

“Fuck,” Peter crossed back to his bed and sat on the end. “I’m crossing the date line east, so… both? Yeah, taking off Thursday afternoon here, landing Thursday morning there.”

Stiles snorted. “Gotta love time travel.”

Tracing a claw over the bedspread, Peter felt the chasm of space between them, wide and aching. It shouldn’t bother him so much, the idea that he didn’t even know where in the world Stiles was. When they’d started this, he’d expected it to go the other way around: Stiles needy and constantly calling and complaining about never seeing one another, Peter playing it cool and maybe getting annoyed at the constant nagging. Sometimes it felt like Stiles lost track of Peter entirely, though.

He knew it was the nature of his job. The FBI ran Stiles so ragged, carting him around the country to consult on supernatural-related cases. He collapsed into hotel room beds exhausted without a second to spare a thought for Peter before he was passed out until his next early morning. Peter’s work travel was constant, but it tended to be more leisurely – business lunches, networking, posh hotel parties. It gave him too much time to think. He saw others bringing their spouses with them to the more upscale destinations. He had to smile and explain Stiles’s busy schedule while trying to avoid saying just how long it had been since they’d been in the same area code.

“Anyway, it means I’ll have extra time before I go to London next Monday,” Peter told him. “I could fly out to DC. I know you’ll be working until Sunday, but...”

“No, that’d be awesome,” Stiles cut in, maybe sensing the longing in Peter’s tone. “You could shack up, play house husband for a few days. I can say ‘honey I’m home’ when I walk in the door.”

Peter felt a smile spreading from lips to cheeks to the corners of his eyes. “Play your cards right, I’ll wear an apron and fix you a drink.”

“Ooh, baby,” Stiles crooned.

“So when do you get back to DC?” Peter asked, because it was always about logistics with them. Who’s in what time zone? When are you landing? How long is the layover? When do you get a day off? Are you working nights?  


“Friday, middle of the day. I’ll probably stop home before I head to the office. I could probably squirrel out an extra day off from all the overtime I racked up this week. So that gives us...”

“A weekend,” Peter summarized, the very idea of it swelling warm in his chest. A whole weekend.

“A weekend,” Stiles agreed, voice soft.

Peter dropped back onto the bed, legs hanging off the end. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of Stiles’s breathing over the line.

Chain hotels tend to use the same layout, the same fabrics and furniture, for all of their hotels. It’ s to make people feel like the y’ve been there before. The first night sleeping in a strange place, the body stays partially alert through the night, but in their comforting sameness, hotel rooms provide the illusion of familiarity –  like they’re all one place, a pocket dimension that you can step into from any of their thousands of convenient locations worldwide.

Lying there with his eyes closed, Peter thought about that. About how Stiles was probably lying in a hotel that looked just like his own. How they might as well be the same space, overlaid on one another from thousands of miles apart. He could almost imagine that Stiles was curled up in the bed beside him, could almost smell him. Feel his warmth. He imagined he could feel the puff of his breath as he whispered, “I miss you.”

It ached, but no more than the promise of a weekend, a whole weekend, could heal.


End file.
